


Pogged

by Chuffed4angst



Series: Five Stars [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Belly Kink, Chubby Draco, Fat Character, Feeding, Food Kink, M/M, Post-War, Stuffing, Weight Gain, chubby chaser Ron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-27 23:39:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/985015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chuffed4angst/pseuds/Chuffed4angst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco refused to be swayed  by the bitchy “chubby leprechaun” comment.  He and Ron exceed their own expectations.</p><p>"Draco dragged his index finger from Ron’s clavicle to his sternum and lamented, 'I shouldn’t; I know I shouldn’t.' "</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pogged

 

By their next day off, Draco was still wound up about the “chubby leprechaun” comment in Romilda Vane’s review.  He refused to be swayed by her uninvited opinion, however, and set out with Ron to have their most decadent play ever.

 

Much later, sated by several hours of “to hell with bitchy reviewers” debauchery, Draco and Ron lay facing each other in a contented haze.

 

Draco dragged his index finger from Ron’s clavicle to his sternum, lamenting, “I shouldn’t; I know I shouldn’t.”

 

It should be impossible, thought Ron with fond amusement, but Draco sounded bewildered, apologetic and completely unrepentant – all at the same time.

 

“You’ve already given me everything,” Draco sighed and added, “repeatedly.  It ought to be enough.”  He licked his bottom lip before biting down on it hungrily.

 

Ron never ceased to be amazed.  “More?” he asked.

 

Draco pleaded with his eyes.

 

“I’ve fed you a sumptuous feast, we’ve fucked twice and still you want more?” Ron asked with mock disbelief.

 

Shy and eager, Draco nodded.

 

Grinning, Ron caressed Draco’s thick waist and splayed his hand around his swollen belly.   “Hadn’t we better wait for you to digest a little?”

 

“No,” groaned Draco.  “That’s just the point:  I want more now on top.”

 

“OK.  If you’re certain...”  Ron eagerly shimmied forward until his toes found Draco’s toes and their knees knocked.  Grabbing a love handle and squeezing, he pulled Draco closer so that his toned abdomen pressed up against the round ball of Draco’s belly.  Leaning in for a kiss, he gently rubbed their noses and drank in the open, wanton desperation on Draco’s beautiful face.  Oh, how he adored this very moment.  Nobody else had ever seen this aspect of the Slytherin Prince; it was his and his alone.

 

“Tell me again,” Ron encouraged, voice husky from sex and want.  “Why me and what you want.”

 

Desperation fell away and Draco’s eyes shone with happiness.  This was their routine.  Draco would gladly tell Ron ten thousand times more, just so long as Ron provided.  He kissed the tip of Ron’s nose and cupped his hand along Ron’s square jaw.  Then, like the beginning of a well-loved children’s story, Draco recited, “You are the one, Ronald Weasley.  The only one.  I trust you.  You see me like no one else ever has.  You touch me to the center.  You feed my very soul.”

 

“Yes,” Ron affirmed.  “What do you want right now?”

 

“More,” Draco’s voice cracked with need.  “Feed me more.”

 

Knowing Draco must surely be maxed out after so much food in so short a time, Ron reached out to gently test the state of Draco’s stomach.  It was obscenely distended and hard as a drum, just as it had been when he had cajoled Draco to eat the very last bite of roast less than a half hour ago.  He pressed gently against it as he asked, “Are you sure?”

 

Wincing, Draco struggling to choke out, “Yes.  Need more.”

 

Caressing Draco’s belly, Ron elicited a string of pained, needy noises.  “I’d love to help you out, luv, but how in Merlin’s name can you manage another bite?”

 

“Erm,” Draco had no immediate answer because Ron was correct.

 

Ron massaged the concave intersection between Draco’s chest and belly while, at the same time, distracting him with a kiss.

 

Their kiss deepened to the point that Ron had quite forgotten who was distracting whom when Draco pulled back and announced, “Bath.  There’s no gravity in the bath.  I think I have a potion that will help, too.”

 

Always keen for new extremes, Ron praised, “Now there’s an idea.”  He scrambled to his feet and held out his hands.  “Up you go,” he encouraged.

 

Weighed down by his over-stuffed stomach, Draco groaned as he rolled over and allowed himself to be pulled up.  He was dizzy from the quick change in altitude and swayed until Ron slipped behind and wrapped his arms around him.

 

“Good man,” Ron chuckled as he began to walk them both to the bathroom.  “Let’s get you to that lovely bath.”

 

Within five minutes, Ron was lowering Draco into a perfectly warm sea of scented, oiled, potion-filled bubble bath.

 

“Aaah,” sighed Draco in relief as he reclined against the sloped side of their oversized tub.  

 

“Better?” asked Ron.  Smoothing his hand over Draco’s still copiously distended stomach, he could feel the tightly stretched flesh loosening already.

 

Draco arched his back. “Divine.”

 

“Divine…” Ron reflected.  Admiring Draco’s luminous shades and pure lines, he decided (as if there had been any question), “Yes.  You are divinely beautiful.  Adonis didn’t have a patch on you.”

 

Eyes closed, Draco smiled dreamily at that.  “Flatterer.”

 

“Worthy subject of flattery,” Ron countered.  “What’s your pleasure?”

 

Draco’s dreamy smile turned feral.  “You are the chef.  Surprise me,” he challenged.

 

“Brilliant.  I’ve just the thing.”

 

... 

 

Blissed out in sensation and anticipation, Draco blinked heavily when he heard Ron’s bare feet padding across the tile.  He perked up at the sight of Ron wearing the scrap of deep blue silk that he insisted on calling a bathrobe.  It was cut like a strappy wrap-around tank top and didn’t give more coverage than a towel wrapped around his waist.  The way the clingy liquid fabric hung did wonders to accentuate the breadth of Ron’s shoulders and the sinewy beauty of his limbs and torso.  He balanced a platter up on one hand, spun around and announced, “D he carried, Draco saw how magnificently the silk clung to Ron’s tight arse and stallion-class cock. “Gluteus bloody maximus,” he declaired, “You’re a rock star.”

 

“Glad you think so,” Ron said with the special smile he saved only for Draco.  “I think you’ll like what I have for you even better.”

 

Pushing himself up into more of a sitting position, Draco prompted, “Well?”

 

Ron placed the tray on the corner of the bathtub, revealing a Lazy Susan with a spiral of 10 bowls, starting with a petite bowl that held a tablespoon of caviar and increasing in size up to a quart bowl of Draco’s favorite mocha mousse.  Grinning at his gobsmacked feedee, Ron reached out to caress Draco’s underwater belly with one hand, while slowly spinning the Lazy Susan with the other.  “So,” he prompted, “What do you think?”

 

Draco couldn’t take his eyes off the platter.  “Beluga and salmon and yougurt and custard and ice cream and pudding and mouse,” he purred. “Feed me.”

 

Ron sat comfortably on the stool he kept handy for this very purpose.  “Of course I’ll feed you, silly.”  They were both massaging Draco’s stomach.  It was still distended, but by now the potioned bath water had loosened the skin and muscles considerably.  “But don’t feel as though you need to eat all of this.  You’re still very full.”

 

Draco looked up in worship.  “You are so careful with me.  I love that.  But don’t worry.  I’ll…  I think I can…”

 

“Ok, luv.  Just remember.  You wanted more, so I brought out more than I think you can possibly eat.  We’ll start small, yeah?” coaxed Ron, raising a tiny caviar spoon to Draco’s mouth.

 

Draco cleaned off the spoon with his tongue and hummed in appreciation.  “I adore caviar.”

 

“I know,” answered Ron.  He proceeded to feed the caviar as slowly as possible; on the spoon, on his finger, on Draco’s finger, and finally on the tip of his tongue thrust into Draco’s mouth in a long, fishy kiss.

 

When Draco finally broke away from the kiss, it took him an effort to refocus on the platter and demand the salmon.

 

“Here,” said Ron, slathering a bit on a tiny piece of toast and sliding it into Draco’s mouth.

 

Draco eagerly ate the small bit of salmon on eight tiny pieces of toast and immediately demanded the next dish of greek yougurt with fairyberries.  Ron spooned up the half-cup of yougurt as quickly as Draco could swallow.

 

“Delicious,” Draco sighed giddilly.  “Now treacle custard!”

 

Ron could barely spoon quickly enough as Draco greedily wolfed down his ¾ cup of treacle custard, cup of strawberry mousse, and cup and a half of mocha fudge ice cream.

 

“Oof,” he sighed at the end of the ice cream.  “That was chilly.”

 

“Mm,” agreed Ron, gently gliding his free hand over Draco’s ever-larger abdomen.  “Need a break?”

 

Draco eyed the 2-cup bowl of bread pudding for two ticks.  “No,” he said with determination.  “I’m ready.”

 

Draco continued to happily swallow spoonful after spoonful.  Perhaps it helped that Ron’s bread and rice puddings were so good that they had been written up in travel guides.  

 

By the time Ron moved on to the rice pudding, the top of Draco’s belly had risen above the water level.  His eyes were shut and he was working on instinct.  

 

By the time Ron was scraping the bottom of the bowl, Draco had dropped his head to rest against the tub.  

 

And still he swallowed and opened his mouth to ask for the next bite.

 

Ron switched to the half quart bowl of lemon pudding with meringue.  “Lemon meringue is next.”

 

“Love it,” mumbled a nearly comatose Draco.

 

“You don’t have to do this, mate.  It’ll keep,” Ron offered.

 

“No.  I know.  But I want it,” Draco insisted.

 

“You’re amazing,” Ron praised as he spooned a fluffy first bite.  He really didn’t think Draco would finish.  It was just too much.  About half-way through the bowl, Draco did begin to slow.  He held each bite in his mouth for a moment and swallowing looked to be an effort.  But he plugged away until there were only a few spoonfuls left.

 

Draco paused.  He pressed a hand hard against his chest, right under his chin.  Each of these last swallows were the product of stubborn determination.

 

After swallowing the last, scraped spoonful, he sighed tightly.  “That’s it.  I found my limit.”  Breaking out into a grin he said, “I’m pogged.”

 

Ron moved the quart of mocha mousse out of sight.  “Pogged and water logged.  Let’s get you out of there before you melt.”

 

“Kay,” said Draco dreamily.  “But you’ll do the heavy lifting.”

 

Ron did, in fact, lift Draco with magic.  Once he had him balanced up on his feet in front of the full length mirror, Ron was awestruck by what they had done to Draco.  Draco’s usually soft generous belly had been transformed into an unbelievably large protrusion that could only be explained by triplets or, perhaps, swallowing a watermelon.  “Open your eyes, Dray.  You have to see.”

 

Draco picked his head up off of Ron’s shoulder and broke out into a smile as he looked in the mirror.  “Merlin,” he giggled.  Touching his belly button, he added,  “I have an outie!”

 

“You do,” huffed Ron.  “You know what this big belly reminds me of?”

 

“I can guess.  Is that something you want?”

 

“Dunno,” said Ron, kissing Draco’s chubby chin.  “You?”

 

“No idea,” said Draco, turning into Ron’s kiss.  “Need a kip.”

  
  
  



End file.
